


there there baby (it's just textbook stuff)

by MotherKarizma



Series: faith hope love repeat [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mother's Day, Oneshot, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Supportive May Parker (Spider-Man)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherKarizma/pseuds/MotherKarizma
Summary: She was two plates away from starting the dishwasher on a Thursday evening when her phone rang.“We’re in hell. We’re in literal hell.”“Hello to you, too.” May scoffed as she dried her hands on a towel. A thread from one of the frayed ends snagged on her wedding ring. “What a way to start a social call.”Peter gave a strained laugh. He sounded the furthest thing from amused. “Actually, uh…”And then May heard them in the background - five week old Ezra screaming, Michelle frantic in her attempts to soothe him - and she dropped the towel with a sigh.“Not a social call."-----Or: Peter and Michelle are new parents to a colic baby and May is the best.
Relationships: Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: faith hope love repeat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739677
Comments: 26
Kudos: 140





	there there baby (it's just textbook stuff)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FerretShark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FerretShark/gifts), [Gruoch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gruoch/gifts), [frostysunflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/gifts), [geekymoviemom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekymoviemom/gifts), [GhostInTheBAU](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostInTheBAU/gifts).



> this fic is dedicated to all the moms in the fandom! happy mother's day! 
> 
> fic title taken from [imogen heap - speeding cars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cN-RwnufBR0)

She was two plates away from starting the dishwasher on a Thursday evening when her phone rang.

“We’re in hell. We’re in literal hell.”

“Hello to you, too.” May scoffed as she dried her hands on a towel. A thread from one of the frayed ends snagged on her wedding ring. “What a way to start a social call.”

Peter gave a strained laugh. He sounded the furthest thing from amused. “Actually, uh…”

And then May heard them in the background - five week old Ezra screaming, Michelle frantic in her attempts to soothe him - and she dropped the towel with a sigh.

“Not a social call,” she said dryly. “Peter, honey, do you guys need help?”

Happy, who stood hand-washing his cast iron skillet with the utmost care, looked up at that. _What’s wrong?_ he mouthed. 

“We need _sleep,_ ” Peter said, voice breaking, just as May shook her head at her husband and held up her index finger in a _one second_ gesture. “May - I’m sorry, but - _please?_ ”

“Don’t be sorry,” May said, already trying to recall where she’d left her purse. “I can be there in twenty. How long’s he been going for?”

There was a shuffle on the other end of the line before her nephew’s exhaustion-laden voice returned. “I - what? Sorry - sorry, I’m just - we’re-”

“Peter - _Peter_. Breathe, honey. Breathe. I’m on my way to help. Just set him in his crib and walk away for a minute - tell Michelle. Alright?”

“But he’s-”

“I _know_ , baby. I know. But he’s not calming down, anyway, and he’s perfectly safe in his crib. Give yourselves a minute. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” Peter said, voice shaky. “Okay. Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Relax. I’m on my way.”

“Colic?” Happy asked when she hung up, tony sympathetic and grim. 

May pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then sighed. “Colic. Don’t wait up.”

There were no stupid questions asked, no _are you going to help_ or _do you really need to go,_ because the answer was clear as day - a resounding _yes._

What else was a surrogate mother to do?

* * *

Ezra’s wails were audible the instant the elevator doors parted, and May couldn’t help but wince in sympathy - not only for Peter and Michelle, but for their neighbors, too. A lifetime of residing in apartment buildings meant growing accustomed to the cries of newborns, and it wasn’t exactly what she would call a pleasant sound.

“Oh, thank God,” Peter breathed, swinging the door open a mere two seconds after she knocked. “Oh my _God_. May. Please. We don’t know what to do. He’s just - and we’re-”

May reached up, gripped the back of his neck, and pulled him close. Peter went willingly, his arms wrapped tight around her. For just a second, she almost thought she could convince herself that he was still her baby-faced fifteen year old, new to the nitty-gritty world of heroism and in need of her embrace as a soft place to land. She couldn’t buy it, though. He was taller now. His round face had sharpened into a cut-edged jawline. His eyes were darker, less innocent, and his shoulders carried more weight than ever. He wasn’t a baby anymore - he was raising one. 

But he was still _her_ baby. That, he would always be.

“Thank you,” Peter said, muffled into her hair. “You’re a life saver. I love you.”

Before she could return the sentiment, there was another round of infantile screaming from beyond the front door. May pulled away and mustered up a relaxed smile for her nephew. “I love you, too. Let’s go check on your family, hm?”

“Holy shit,” Michelle breathed when she entered the apartment, looking so relieved at the sight of aid that May feared the younger woman might cry. “You’re my favorite person ever, May Parker. I’m serious. My _favorite_.”

And this was how May knew the two of them were well and truly dead on their feet: Peter gave his wife no playful objection or pout. Instead, he agreed, “Mine, too.”

Their praises somehow made it easier to take a red-faced, screaming Ezra from Michelle’s arms, to tuck him into her own and say over the noise, “You two should try and get some sleep, if you can. I'll take over for a while.”

Their protests were immediate.

“May, no, you don’t have to do that-”

“-we didn’t mean for you to take over, we just needed some help-”

“-not gonna make you take care of him alone-”

“ _Guys_.” May glanced in exasperation between their shadowed faces. “Don’t be ridiculous. I came over to give you a break. _Go to bed_.”

They both faltered. Michelle swayed in place, Peter rocked on his heels, and they shared a hesitant glance.

“Are you sure?” Peter asked. “Like - _really_ sure?”

“Honey? I raised an Avenger. I think I can handle a colicky baby for a few hours.”

May wasn’t actually certain she could - raising a child from ages eight to eighteen was worlds away from being solely responsible for a weeks-old infant. Nevertheless, she shooed the two of them away.

“You’ll go easy on me, won’t you?” She asked her great-nephew once his parents had reluctantly shuffled off into their bedroom.

Ezra responded by way of another ear-piercing scream, and May sighed. 

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Peter had been a colic baby.

May remembered meeting him for the first time at Mary and Richard’s home, a mere six months after she and Ben started dating. At two months old, her soon-to-be nephew had single-handedly convinced her that babies truly did nothing but eat, cry, and, on rare and lucky occasions, sleep.

She remembered thinking Mary had to be one of the kindest, most patient people she’d ever met, and asked her in amazement, “How do you _do_ this all day?”

Mary’s eyes had been tired, but her smile was wide and genuine. “Parenting is sacrifice. Love is sacrifice. Want me to show you a trick?”

May had nodded and watched wordlessly as Mary laid a screaming Peter down beside her on the couch. She unbuttoned his onesie to reveal his tummy and began to massage it in a particular pattern. Within minutes, the baby was quiet.

“It’s called the ‘I love you’ massage,” Mary said, eyes brimmed with adoration as she gazed down at her son. “See? You make the shape of the letter I, then L, then U - ‘I love you.’ Works every time.”

Now, May laid Ezra down in the little bassinet set up for him in the living room and mumbled, “You better not have been messing with me, Mary Parker.”

* * *

By the time Peter emerged from his and Michelle’s bedroom at half past midnight, hair mussed from sleep, the apartment was silent. Mat sat on the couch in front of the TV, which was muted with the subtitles on. 

Beside her, Ezra was sound asleep in his bassinet.

“How-” Peter stared at his son with wide eyes, then shook his head. “Nevermind. I don’t care how. You’re a miracle worker.”

He collapsed next to her on the couch and dropped his head onto her shoulder. May laughed softly as she wrapped an arm around him and squeezed.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the ‘I love you’ massage?” She asked playfully. “It’s textbook colic stuff.”

“It’s official: we’re the worst parents ever.”

“Oh, you are _not_.” May swatted half-heartedly at the back of his head. “I was joking. Your mom taught me how to do that when you were little.”

Peter glanced up at her with a bittersweet smile. “Her legacy lives on.”

“Always.” May hummed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I called Tony and Pepper. Morgan’s going to bring you guys some real groceries this weekend. Your trash can is full of take-out bags and your fridge is a wasteland.”

“She doesn’t have to do that.”

“I think she likes having an excuse to drive by herself. That newly-licensed freedom, you know?”

“Well, in that case.” Peter yawned, eyes fluttering, and snuggled closer to her. “You should probably go home and sleep. I know you have work tomorrow.”

He extended the words to her like an offering, an excuse for her to escape, but May didn’t take it. She knew him too well - he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her guidance, her comfort. It confirmed a theory she had long held to be truth in her own life: no matter how old or independent one got, when the going got rough, everyone just wanted their mom. 

She ran a hand through his too-long curls, gaze flickering from his unshaven stubble to his closed eyelids. “Mmm...no. I think I’m gonna stay right here.”

“If you insist.”

As he drifted back to sleep against her shoulder, May traced letters against her kid’s back - I, and L, and U.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, you can find me on tumblr under the same username!
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
